Niall: He thought this feeling only existed in books or in movies, he never thought he’d experience it for himself but he was and it was beautiful. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as your arm brushed against his again. It was late, a little after midnight and he was walking you home from the pub. His hands were tucked in his pockets as he lazily walked beside you. He thought that as far as first dates went, that was the best one possible. He picked you up around six, taking you to his favorite spot to hear his favorite band play. He couldn’t stop staring at you the entire time. He couldn’t even believe that someone like you existed, you seemed to be too wonderful for words and every time you met his gaze, his heart flipped inside his chest. The time had elapsed so quickly Niall hadn’t even noticed. Your skin brushed his again and he felt his cheeks flush, butterflies slamming into his rib cage and choking him up. Finally, his hand reached for yours and he found your fingers waiting. You both grinned, swinging your clasped hands back and forth. “You give me butterflies,” he admitted sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning pink. He lifted your clasped hands and pressed a kiss to your knuckles in the sweetest gesture possible. “So this has been the best first date I’ve ever been on,” he admitted when you reached your front door. “And I know I’m supposed to wait three days to call you, but I can’t wait that long. I need to see you tomorrow, is that okay?”
Harry: Ten years, six months, five days and 21 hours. Was it possible that’s how long he got to call you his? He rubbed his tired eyes, silver wedding ring bouncing off the light. As he looked down to his hand, he guessed that it was. He remembered the first time he saw you, chasing that damn scarf through the park as the wind kicked it a few feet in front of you. He stopped, listening to your muffled curses as it skirted your grip once again. It had landed, quite perfectly, around his ankle. When he bent to retrieve it, your foreheads bumped and Harry went flat on his ass. You had, quite literally, knocked him off his feet.From there on out, he couldn’t get enough of you. You surprised him with everything you did and you enthralled him like nothing else. He still felt as breathless when he proposed, and even more so when you got married. He felt his chest tighten when you told him you were pregnant. Ten years and three kids later, Harry still felt those damn butterflies float up inside his chest. He crawled down to the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you slid on your last shoe. “Have I told you what a lucky man I am?” he asked between kisses on your cheek as he ran his thumb over our wedding ring. “Or how much I love you? Or how every time I look at you, it’s like the first time all over again?” Harry knew that even when you were both old and gray and covered in wrinkles, he would still lose his breath when he saw you because you were his forever, and there was nothing more beautiful than that.
Liam: It had been a long, long night and all he wanted to do was collapse into his overly sized bed and wrap his arms around you. He toed off his shoes and collapsed back on the mattress, arms spread out by his side. His head swam from the few drinks he had, but he wasn’t drunk by any means. In fact, he’d never felt so much clarity before. He sighed, listening to you turn the water on in the bathroom as you washed off your make up from the day. “Hurry up,” he called, pulling his shirt off over his shoulders. “I want to cuddle you.” He heard your laughter ring out and the water shut off. When the door opened, he sat up, heavily lidded eyes blinking in surprise. You wore his shirt only and your hair was let down and falling over one shoulder. You had no make up on, your skin clear from all the harsh chemicals you felt you needed in order to be ‘beautiful’, when in truth, you were never more beautiful than you were right now. “Babe,” he said hoarsely, holding his hand out for yours. His heart started beating faster, his skin breaking out in chills as your small hand slipped in his. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, pulling you into his chest. You shook your head, a rueful smile on your lips. “Don’t be silly.” He shook his head now, pressing your hand to his chest. “I’m not, god, you take my breath away sometimes. I actually have butterflies,” he laughed, making sure your hand was directly over his racing heart. “Do you see what you do to me?” he asked quietly, lips hovering over his. “You unravel me, make me weak. you’ve captured my heart, for always.”
Zayn: He wiggled his tie back and forth trying for a decent breath. Every single eye in the church was him and he fidgeted under their gaze. For someone who performed all the time, Zayn hated having all that attention focused on him. “Ready?” The boys asked from behind him. He nodded, patting his pockets making sure he actually had the rings and that Louis hadn’t lost the them. When the music started, Zayn gulped and turned his gaze to the back door of the church. When your eyes met his, he felt his knees go weak. Butterflies exploded in his chest, fluttering and bouncing off his rib cage and his heart strings. His hands trembled, his skin became warm and his cheeks flushed. You were breath taking and my god, you were his, he couldn’t believe it. He was so damn lucky, and Zayn promised himself that every day for the rest of his life he’d tell you how damn lucky he was to call you his. “You’re incredible,” he whispered when you stopped before him. You gave him a watery smile, hand reaching out for his. He shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. “No, you don’t understand what you do to me,” he pressed his hand to his chest, words failing him as you took his breath away again. “You make me weak and strong at the same time, you pick me up and you knock me down. You are everything,” he said fiercely, bringing you closer. “You will always be everything and the only thing that matter to me. Nothing else will ever come close to what you mean to me, what you’ll always mean to me and when we’re old and gray, I’ll still lose my breath when I look at you because you are the love of my life, and I will never be able to tell you it enough.”
Louis: He didn’t want any regular flowers for you. That was boring and over done. Instead, Louis took the long way home from work, stopping at every single park along the way to pick you some fresh flowers. Maybe it was a bit much, but Louis couldn’t get the image of you with fresh flowers in your hair out of his mind. Maybe he’d been losing too much sleep or putting in too many hours at the office, but damn, he just wanted to see you with some wild flowers. It took him three hours to get home on an otherwise twenty minute journey. He knew that his dinner would be cold and that you’d most likely be curled up in his chair in his sweater watched Friends, as was your evening ritual. He didn’t mind though, these flowers would be worth it. When he barged through the front door, an assortment of blooms in his arms, you stopped mid-sip on your mug of tea and blinked at him. “What are those?” he smiled, moving into the living room and presenting his findings to you. “Wild flowers,” he said happily, bending down to give you a kiss. “You hand picked these?” You sat your tea down and stooped, fingers delicately tracing each petal. When he nodded, looking proud and utterly pleased, you grinned. He gave you the butterflies, made that ridiculous grin on your face spread until it was painful. “You’re too sweet,” you pressed your nose to the flowers and Louis blinked. You took his damn breath away, made his heart stop inside his chest and he was utterly, completely and foolishly in love with you, so much so that Louis swore he’d pick wild flowers every day for the rest of his life to see you smile like that.